A kiss goodbye
by qwertysweetea
Summary: Their goodbye should have been there and then – with that show if friendship, subtle insults and strong hugs. The entire friendship conveyed in one moment. Strong, sweet, and so very them. So why had their perfect goodbye not been enough? Pre-serum Steve/ Pre-Winter Bucky


Based on a beautiful WWII goodbye kiss which I would post a link to but they don't work on here, so you're just going to go to google, type in 'WWII goodbye kisses' and look for the one of the man hanging out a train, kissing a woman who is standing on a platform railing. So sweet.

I have a love-hate relationship with this pairing. I love them as brothers. I love them as friends. I love them as lovers. I love them as enemies. I hate that I can't decide which one I prefer. They are like... the ultimate pair of characters, you can literally do anything with them.

Forgive the bad grammar, punctuation and sentence structure. It's far too long and I'm far too bored to re-read it. I shall do it at a later date.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Captain America or any characters and places associated with Marvel Comics and Paramount Pictures. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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Their goodbye should have been there and then – with that show if friendship, subtle insults and strong hugs. The entire friendship conveyed in one moment. Bucky's hand clasped around the back of his head and Steve, feeling so weak in comparison, was pulled firm, for a brief moment, into his chest. Promising 'we'll meet again' words hung heavy in the air. That was their goodbye. Strong, sweet, and so very them.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Steve watched Bucky walk away and for a while Bucky had watched him from over his shoulder, both heavy with words they hadn't known they had wanted to tell. They were out of each other's sight for what could potentially be the last time in this bloodbath of a war…

So why had their perfect goodbye not been enough?

Why was this something, as mysterious as it was so obviously missing, weighing heavily on their minds?

Bucky's train didn't leave until 6:42am according to the notice board, which gave Steve a little under fifteen minutes to battle his way through the crowded platform to find his friend if he wished to see him again before he left. Things were not looking so bright but then, they rarely did when he found himself in a position so physically challenging.

He hadn't allowed himself to consider the other side of it; that Bucky, content with their farewell and a night with a beautiful girl in his arms, would only be made confused and awkward by it, or worse, panic for his friend's well-being as was drowned in a sea of people. But he couldn't think of that. It would make him doubt, and that would only slow him down.

People knocked into him from every direction as though he wasn't there at all. His chest was already feeling tight with anxiousness without the claustrophobia creeping up on him too. He attempted to take in a large lungful of determination, and moved forward.

While Steve found his world suddenly overshadowed by towering soldiers and the threat of failure, Bucky was seeing nothing but brightness as his hungover mind seemed to fight against the overstimulation of light and sound. Even with eyes shut heavily the muddle of oranges and reds were still far too blistering to ignore.

He pressed his head against the chilled glass in the hope that it might sooth him into sleep, but whether or not it worked he couldn't tell. The whistle for the doors to be shut went off somewhere in the background and excited soldiers he could have sworn weren't there seconds before crowded to the window to get a last glimpse of those they loved.

"Hey buddy, there's someone wanting ya." Someone stood by him said eagerly, knocking he arm to get his attention but Bucky grumbled for a reply, only adding a 'not for me' after another knock to the arm.

Who was going to be there for him? His parents? That blonde-haired beauty from last night? He smiled weakly to himself in an attempt to wash back the sadness of it when the other soldier knocked him again.

"Wake-up Bubby, there's someone to say goodbye."

"I've told you." Bucky replied, opening his eyes this time to the solider "…I don't have anyone to see me off."

The disappointment in his chest was only suppressed by the little shrug the other gave to the entity on the other side of the window, and on turning back to attempt to salvage the comfortable spot he had found for his head, was propelled to stand when confronted with Steve.

His throat choked up with surprise and an unfounded nervousness that he had swallowed back since their goodbye came flooding onto his face and out of his lips with a harsh sounds of disbelief and happiness. Headache, nausea, all the horrible hangover symptoms which afflicted him were suddenly do easy to repress.

Steve's sheepish grin could only just be observed underneath the exhausted expression but Bucky hadn't given himself the moment to notice. He was up, pushing his way out of the compartment and through the corridor to the train door. Steve mirrored him on the platform, jumping up on one of the railings that they'd recently put in place to protect people from the tracks.

The door swung open, narrowly missing Steve, and Bucky was hanging out with only one foot left on the train and one hand clinging to the frame of the door in an attempt to get closer to his friend.

"I couldn't let you head off with that pansy-ass goodbye yesterday." Steve shouted over the sound of the reading engines.

Bucky smiled in pure, unrelenting joy and replied, holding onto the door tightly as he hung over the track "That impulsive nature of yours is going to get you into trouble."

How Bucky made the final few inches to Steve without ending sprawled under the train Steve did not know. He had seen it coming, but little had the chance to cross his mind. A hand was tightly fisted into his shirt and his upper-half was pulled over the railing, then his mind was lost to everything that wasn't the chaste but all consuming kiss Bucky had planted painfully hard on his lips.

The hand which wasn't clinging onto the railing drifted somewhere between Bucky's cheek and shoulder. It alternated between embracing him and hovering in bewilderment.

Neither moved until Bucky, under someone else's power, moved from him. In those brief seconds nothing else much mattered. He couldn't breathe, though he didn't think that he would of if he could. Breathing would do nothing but indicate the presence of time, and time was the enemy of the moment. It dragged it away and turned it into a hazy memory, dramatic and romanticised and completely incorrect.

He didn't want memory. He wanted Bucky, and Bucky wanted him.

Bucky opened his eyes to see the surprise melting off Steve's face, only to be replaced with sadness. It hadn't been like yesterdays, brought on by a gut-wrenching knot of missed opportunities and regret. No, it was a bittersweet misery that said, without the need for words, 'I will miss you. Please be careful. Come home safely' and worst of all 'Don't let this end so soon'.

Both counted their blessings that they could see in the other understanding of that message as the train began to pull away.

Steve remained frozen to the platform as those around him shouted their own goodbyes or grasped at the windows for a last touch of their loved-ones hand or cheek. Mothers, wives, children and siblings all clambering around him, mourning as much as they were celebrating.

From inside the train, Bucky had closed himself off to the hoots and jeers of those around him. He allowed himself a few seconds to himself, to them – he and Steve, and not just to that tender moment but to their entire friendship, and all the moments that made up what they were.

"Who was he?" A soldier asked. The same one from before, maybe… he didn't know.

"A friend." He replied, self-preservation cloaking it with harshness. His breath was still heavy in his ears, the last of the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins, and he looked up at the wall of muscle he faced as though he was challenging him to make a remark, any remark. Somewhere between the clenched fists and gritted teeth he cursed Steve in an affection manner for his influence, all the while keeping the face of a man defending the honour of a brother rather than a friend.

"He must be special." The other replied with an air of nonchalantness, and reached into his pocket to retrieve a little photobook.

Bucky, guard high enough to defend but not to keep out curiosity, softened in expression and stance. Eyes gazed over the gentle features of a woman with a cheeky smile and pale locks. His heart made a tremendous leap in feeling, the sentimentality catching him.

"My sister." The man displayed proudly as if to say that he understood what it was to care in war, in whatever way that was. They did not know each other but they were brothers in situation.

"You…" Bucky paused, relaxing back awkwardly and embarrassed in his abruptness "…were the one who stopped me falling out the train."

The stranger smiled but made no other reply.

"Barnes." He stated, holding out his hand.

It was gratefully accepted by the other who responded with his name.

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